


Ice Cream

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crack, Gen, This Is STUPID, dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and John have an ice cream eating contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a request for fanficstuck.tumblr.com :)

You’re not sure why you agreed to this, but now you have, you’re not giving up. Rose Lalonde does not back out of a challenge. So now, you’re sitting in front of a row of ice cream tubs, spoon in hand, facing off with John Egbert. To your left, Dave Strider watches on, in the role of adjudicator.

“Are you ready?” John asks, grinning impudently, “Ready to lose, that is.”

“I’m ready to destroy you,” you say, your expression deadly serious.

“Bring it,” he says.

“Oh, it is _on_.”

You give him a glare that, if looks could kill, would have skewered him over a fire and roasted him slowly to death. He just laughs.

“Ladies, ladies,” Dave says, pushing you and John gently apart, “Calm down.”

You just shift your glare to him.

“Okay, then, whoever eats the most ice cream in the next ten minutes is the winner.”

You and John both nod once.

“On your marks... Get set... Go!”

Dave starts his stopwatch and you dig in. You start working your way steadily through the first tub, eating it quickly and methodically. Opposite you, John seems to be getting more ice cream on his face than in it, and he looks like he’s having far more fun than you think he should be.

“And Lalonde is off to a steady start,” Dave says, his voice a perfect imitation of a sports commentator, “But, oh no, she’s stopped to glare at the referee and Egbert is catching up.”

You growl, and return to your ice cream, picking up the pace.

“Lalonde is taking this very seriously, she’s been training for weeks, whilst Egbert looks like he’s more in it for the fun of playing and the free ice cream than anything else.”

John snorts, spraying ice cream over you, and you glare at him. He apologises, but his mouthful of ice cream ruins it. You just roll your eyes and move onto your second tub.

“Three minutes in, and both contestants seem immune to the freezing effect of the ice cream. It’s like they have a supernatural ice-cream-eating power.”

John laughs again, this time careful to cover his mouth. You roll your eyes. What an amateur. You watch him eating far larger mouthfuls than he can manage whilst you sedately take exactly the right amount. It’s no contest, really.

“They both have very different techniques-” cue snorting from John “-but at this point, it’s hard to tell which will be successful.”

You roll your eyes at Dave.

“Lalonde’s tendency for eye-rolling might set her back a bit, but Egbert easily falls prey to distraction. It’s a tough one to call.”

You finish the last spoonful of your second tub and move onto your third. You try to count how many tubs John has finished, but he seems to be working on three at once. Typical.

“Only three minutes left now, and the contestants are still pretty evenly matched. If this continues, they might have to go to penalties.”

You roll your eyes, wondering how that would even work. A speed round, maybe?

“And Lalonde is still rolling her eyes, it’s amazing they don’t roll out of their sockets, she should probably see a doctor about that.”

You suppress a sigh. Someone should probably tell Dave he isn’t funny.

“Lalonde is nearing the end of her third tub as we reach the final minute, and who can tell how much Egbert has eaten, really, it’s a mystery. His haphazard style is not going to make this any easier on me.”

It’s your turn to laugh, but you manage not to spray ice cream everywhere. It wouldn’t particularly matter if you had. John has already managed to cover his face in it. If it weren’t so disgusting, you’d think it was quite an achievement.

“Thirty seconds to go and they’re both desperately cramming in the last few spoonfuls. I think it’s going to be a close one. Who will win in this epic battle between man and machi- woman?”

Dave quickly changes his mind about what he was going to call you when you punch him in the arm. Hard.

“Attacking the ref really isn’t going to help Lalonde’s chances.”

You glare at him, although the effect is slightly ruined by your mouthful of ice cream.

“And time... is... up!”

You swallow your last mouthful, and counter John’s friendly grin with an icy stare. He doesn’t seem phased.

“Lalonde has finished a clean three tubs, all of them completely empty, whilst Egbert seems to have been working on several tubs at once. We may have to get the weighing scales out for this one.”

You roll your eyes, and John looks pleased with himself, as Dave retrieves the scales from the cupboard. Far too dramatically, in your opinion, he weighs your remaining ice cream, and then weighs John’s. His comes out slightly heavier than yours, and you grin triumphantly.

“And Lalonde is the winner!”

Dave lifts your right hand in the air, and you feel slightly silly, but mostly victorious. Childishly, you stick your tongue out at John, and he sticks out a chocolate-ice-cream-covered tongue in return, making you pull a disgusted face.

“You child,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Look who’s talking,” he says, grinning, “You just won an ice cream eating contest. And you have ice cream on your forehead.”

He laughs as you swear and rub the ice cream off. How the hell did that get there?

“Oh, shut up,” you say.

“Well done, Rose,” he says, smiling widely, and you think he really means it. Dork.

“Yeah, congratulations,” Dave adds, sarcastically, “You win a free ticket to barf city.”

John starts laughing, then stops suddenly, turning slightly green. You and Dave both laugh as he runs off to the bathroom.

“Some guys just can’t hold their ice cream,” you say.


End file.
